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User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 45
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Forty-Five "Are you going to tell me that it's the old man's blue eyes and the way he whispers sweet nothings in your ear that make you want him?" Minerva Apparated to the tiny wizarding High Street in Inverness, conjured an umbrella, and Transfigured her cloak into a plain mackintosh before stepping beyond the street's concealing charms and into the rain that had been falling steadily since noon. She walked to the Muggle bookseller where she had asked Albus to meet her so she could Apparate them back to Caithness. She was a little early, so she spent a few minutes browsing through the stalls and was surprised to find a book entitled Alchemy, by an Eric John Holmyard. She leafed through it for a few minutes and decided to buy it; a Muggle perspective on the magical science might be very interesting. She took the book to the desk and paid the Muggle money—"one pound, twelve and two," the clerk said—and took the package. She was looking at a shelf of poetry when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Albus, his hair and beard shortened by a glamour, wearing a long Muggle coat and homburg. Her heart gave the by-now familiar flutter, as it had done every time she'd seen him since around the time she'd turned seventeen. "Hello," he said. "Well, hello," she answered. "Find anything interesting?" he asked, looking at the shelf in front of them. "Not really. Just the usual—two rows of Rabbie Burns and a half row of everything else." "No Willie McGonagall?" he asked, earning himself a glare. "But you did find something," he said, indicating her parcel. "Yes. A book on alchemy, actually." His eyebrows went up. "That's a surprise." "Yes. Have a look through it when we get home. I think you'll find it interesting." "I will, thank you." "You may have to fight my father for it, though. It's right in his line"—she lowered her voice—"mixing Muggle and magical ideas." "I don't think I'll be looking for anything over which to fight your father," said Albus. "He'll be liable enough to want to thump me as it is." "Are you nervous about telling him?" "Aren't you?" he asked, in lieu of answering her question. This time, she found it more endearing than annoying. "A bit, I suppose. But I don't think he'll thump you, or even hex you. I just think he'll be surprised." "Pleasantly or unpleasantly?" "Pleasantly, I should think. It's just that we've never really talked about my getting married." "Not even when Mr McLaggen proposed?" "No. That wasn't something I discussed with my father. I knew right away that I couldn't marry Doug." After a moment she added, "I was still in love with someone else." He looked around briefly. Seeing nobody nearby, he kissed her quickly. "Shall I assume everything back in Hogsmeade is all right?" she asked. "No sign of trouble." "Good. Shall we go?" They left the bookseller's and walked two blocks until they found a deserted alleyway from which to Apparate. When they emerged just outside the barrier created by the charms that protected the McGonagall home and its grounds from intruders, magical or Muggle, Albus didn't let go of Minerva's waist but pulled her to him and kissed her again. He cast a wide Impervious Charm to keep the rain off them and said, "Wait just a moment, Minerva." She gave him a questioning look, thinking that he was hesitating out of nerves, and he slipped his hand inside the pocket of his Muggle coat to withdraw a small box. He handed it to Minerva. "I'd like you to have this before we go in." She took the box and opened it to reveal a gold ring. She looked up into his face and saw that he looked like a nervous little boy. Putting a gentle hand to his cheek, she said, "This is beautiful, Albus. Thank you." She hadn't even considered that he might give her a ring. "It was my mother's, actually," he told her. "I hope you don't mind." "No. I'm ... I'm overwhelmed that you would give this to me. Are you sure?" "Very sure. My mother always intended to pass it on. She would want you to have it. Can you read the inscription?" She took the ring from the box and held it close to her face, then a bit farther away, squinting. "I'm beginning to think I need glasses. Is it Runic?" "Yes. Can you make out what it says?" "Is this a test, Professor Dumbledore?" she asked with a wry smile. "You did score 'Outstanding' on your Ancient Runes N.E.W.T., Miss McGonagall. Surely you can translate a simple epigraph?" "Hmm," she said, turning the ring several times. "Futhorc, isn't it?" "Very good, my dear. Now what does it say?" "Give me a light from your wand, Professor, and I'll try to suss it out." He lit the tip of his wand and held it over where she was peering at the inscription. She translated, "Love—I got that right off—in man ... birth ... no ... is born ... with man ... death ... no, it's a verb again ... dies not ... something ... eternal." She stood thinking for a moment. "So, the gist of it is that love is born within us, but doesn't die when we do and is eternal. Although I'm sure there's a more elegant translation." "Very good, Miss McGonagall. Fifty points to Gryffindor." "Shall I put it on?" "Yes. If you would like to, that is. My parents' initials and their wedding date are also inscribed on the interior, but I thought we could replace it with ours." Minerva slipped the ring on her finger and put her arms around Albus's neck, kissing him. She withdrew her arms and looked down at her finger again, and said, "But, Albus, I don't dare wear it in public. It's definitely a wedding ring, and I really don't want anyone asking questions about it." "A concealment charm should address that difficulty, don't you think?" "Of course. Silly of me not to have thought of that. Although it's difficult to do such a focussed charm, and I am a bit rusty." She took her wand and pointed it at her finger, saying, "Abscondito." The ring shimmered out of sight. She held her hand up for Albus to inspect. "Very good. I can't see it at all," he said. "I'll need to learn to do that one wandlessly." She took his hand. "Ready to go in?" "As ready as I'll ever be." When they reached the entry hall, a house-elf took their wet coats, and Albus took a moment to remove the glamour from his beard and hair. Thorfinn McGonagall greeted them at that moment, rushing in and extending his hand to Albus. "Headmaster Dumbledore! Welcome to our home. I'm delighted ye could make it." "I thank you for the invitation, Mr McGonagall. And please do call me Albus." "And I'm Thorfinn," replied Minerva's father, shaking Albus's hand. "Come in. Sit by the fire in the library awhile until ye warm up. Quite a cold snap we've been having, isn't it? We've had to charm the snawdrops and the crocuses to keep them from freezing." As they walked towards the library, Minerva leading the way, Albus said, "Yes, our Herbology master has had quite a task charming all the more delicate plants that couldn't be moved into the greenhouses. He has a Whomping Willow sapling, and I'm afraid the poor fellow has had a devil of a time getting it moved indoors. He daren't Levitate it in its current stage of development, he says, so he and our assistant groundskeeper had to do it by hand. It may still be an infant tree, but they came away with some terrific bruises." "A Whomping Willow, you say?" came a voice from the library as they crossed the threshold. Albus looked and saw that it had come from a tall, elegant witch with grey-streaked black hair, and he could see immediately from whom Minerva had got her upright carriage and graceful bearing. "Albus, this is my mother-in-law, Morna MacLaughlin. Morna, please meet Albus Dumbledore," said Thorfinn. Albus took the woman's proffered hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam MacLaughlin." "The pleasure is mine, Headmaster Dumbledore." "Please call me Albus. And yes, I was mentioning to Thorfinn that Herbert Beery, our Herbology master at Hogwarts, has a Whomping Willow sapling." "Does he?" said Morna. "I must say, that's most intriguing. I haven't seen one in ... oh, it must be since before the turn of the century." "Gran is an amateur herbologist," Minerva explained. "Probably could have been a mistress of Herbology, had she wanted to." "But I didn't, and that's enough about that," said Morna crisply. "Minerva, sad to say, never showed much interest in it, but my grandson often sends me interesting cuttings from wherever he's deployed. But Minerva has other talents," she added, smiling warmly at her granddaughter. "As you well know, Albus." "Indeed," he said. "So how did your Professor—Beery, was it?—come by the Willow?" Morna asked. "He brought the seeds back from Persia two summers past. He wanted to see if he could grow it in our northern climate." "That was rather daring of him," said Morna, "Salix brutalis likes a Mediterranean climate, if I remember rightly. And it's very rare—quite a loss if it doesn't survive." "Oh, yes," said Albus, "But Professor Beery is a most talented herbologist, and he has raised that willow as carefully as he would his own child. I doubt any newborn baby was ever tucked in as snugly as Herbert's willow." Minerva gave slight chuckle at this, and the group turned to her. She explained, "I was just remembering Hagrid telling me about moving the tree the other day. He was being pummelled by the thing left and right, apparently, and Herbert kept following along beside him, saying, 'Careful, man, don't hurt the willow!'" "Oh, dear," laughed Morna. "Is this Hagrid fellow all right? I understand even a young Whomping Willow can inflict some terrible damage." "Oh, rest assured that our assistant groundskeeper is quite well. He's a very large, strong fellow, you see," said Albus. "I should hope so," replied Morna. The four of them talked a bit more, then, as the rain had stopped, Minerva offered to show Albus around the grounds, and the two walked out into crisp air that was fragranced by the salty winds sweeping in from the Pentland Firth about a mile beyond. "When do you think we should tell them our news?" asked Albus as they walked. "After dinner, I think. Da normally takes a snifter of something in the library. That's usually a good time to bring up anything important. He's always in a good mood when his belly is full." When they had returned to the house, Minerva's grandmother had retired for a "wee lie-down", and Albus, Minerva, and Thorfinn enjoyed some lively conversation on topics ranging from music to Transfiguration science to politics. Thorfinn was quite interested in Albus's work on the International Confederation of Wizards. "Is the Confederation going to take up the question of the International Statute for Secrecy again?" he asked. "It would appear so," said Albus. "Ye sound discouraged." "Oh, not discouraged, exactly. Just ... less than optimistic that we will accomplish anything. I doubt any truly serious consideration will be given to loosening the provisions." "So ye think the Confederation should relax the regulations." "I do, to a degree. As it stands now, it makes any collaboration between Muggles and wizards extremely difficult, if not impossible." "Oh, aye, I agree. When I was working on my last book—it was about the future of Muggle-wizarding relations—it proved impossible to get permission to speak to any Muggles, and nearly so to talk to Squibs and Muggle-borns who were living in the Muggle world." "Yes, I read your book," said Albus. "I was very impressed, especially at the breadth of the material you covered." "Well, I was fortunate to have access to some truly original thinkers, despite the obstacles," Thorfinn replied, "including, I'm not too modest to say, my own son and daughter." Minerva said, "Oh, now ..." "It's true, my dear," said Albus. "The chapter you wrote with the Muggle-born scientist was among the best in the book, I thought. In fact, I must say that it helped frame my own opinions on the Statute and its limitations. It reinforced for me how much further advanced both our societies would be if there were greater opportunities for collaboration." "Yes, and I think the potential benefits are far greater for wizarding society than for Muggles," said Minerva, warming to the topic. "After all, Muggles are never going to have magic; they may benefit from new knowledge gleaned by magical means—if we are ever allowed to share it—but any practical applications that depend on magic will remain the province of wizards. Muggles will have to work out their own ways of exploiting our discoveries. Wizards and witches, on the other hand, can benefit from Muggle technology. Goodness knows we don't have magical applications for every problem, and until we can devise some, we are just as dependent on mundane technology as Muggles. It's only our inherent prejudices against non-magical methodologies that keep us from benefitting from what they've already developed. "Just look at travel, for example. When I went to Salem, it took me five days on a ship—a Muggle ship, by the way; there aren't many wizarding ships making the crossing. We can't Apparate or Portkey over such a long distance, so mostly we don't go. But Muggles have come up with a way to cut that time to less than a day. They've been crossing the Atlantic in aeroplanes since before their last war. It only takes them about fourteen hours to get from London to New York. I'd imagine, if we would only consider learning from their technology, that we could develop versions of these aircraft and enhance them with magic. But our laws largely prohibit that kind of collaboration." When she had finished, she realised that both men were looking at her with amusement. "End of lecture," she said, embarrassed. "It's something you obviously feel quite passionately about," said Albus. "And, as always, your arguments are most cogent. May I ask you to help me draft my address to the Confederation?" "It would be an honour," said Minerva. "Oh, while we're on the topic, Da, I picked up a book in Inverness that might interest you. It's about alchemy, and it's by a Muggle—or at least, someone who has looked at it from a Muggle's vantage point. I'll leave it with you if you like, and you can owl it to me when you've finished." "Thanks, Minerva. I'd be most interested to read it," said Thorfinn. Just before they went in for dinner, Albus produced a bottle from the interior pocket of his voluminous robes. "I've brought a bottle of elf-made Müller-Thurgau from Hogwarts's cellar. It's unusual but quite good, I thought. If it isn't suited to our dinner, I hope you'll consider adding it to your collection." "I thank ye, Albus," said Thorfinn, taking the bottle. The recent excise duties have made decent elf-made wine prohibitively expensive, so this is a kingly gift. I, for one, look forward to having a bit of it with our fish. I'll just have our kitchen elf chill it, if you'll excuse me a moment." Despite Minerva's earlier reassurances about her father's reaction to their engagement, Albus felt the tingle of nerves all throughout dinner, and they stepped up their assault on his composure when Thorfinn invited them to join him in the library for an after-dinner cognac. As they sat talking and drinking, Albus tried to catch Minerva's eye. When there was a brief lull in the conversation, he finally succeeded, and she gave him a smile, set down her glass, stood, and crossed to where he was sitting in a worn leather club chair. To everyone's surprise, she seated herself on the arm and clasped one of Albus's hands in hers. "I have some news," she said. "Oh?" said Thorfinn in a tone Albus recognised. It was the one Minerva used when he told her something she already knew. "I'm going to marry Albus." Albus held his breath in the silence that followed, and Minerva squeezed his hand tighter in hers. "That's news indeed!" cried Morna. "When did this come about?" "Oh, we just decided this week," said Minerva. "But we've been seeing one another for some time." Albus took a sidelong glance at his would-be father-in-law and was pleased to see the man's smile. Minerva said to her father, "Aren't you going to congratulate us?" "Och, of course, Minerva ... Kneazle just got my tongue," said Thorfinn, standing. He went to his daughter and embraced her, then offered Albus his hand. "Congratulations, Albus," he said warmly as he shook the taller wizard's hand. "I must say, you're either a brave man or a foolish one." "Both, I imagine," replied Albus, earning him a light smack on the elbow from his wife-to-be. "This calls for a toast, I'm thinking," said Thorfinn crossing back to the bar trolley. "Just a moment while I top everyone up." "Oh, no more for me, Da," said Minerva. "I'll fall over." "Nor me," said Morna. Thorfinn added a splash of brandy to his and Albus's glasses and raised his. "To Minerva and Albus!" "Minerva and Albus," repeated Morna, and the group drank. "So you see I had an ulterior motive in wrangling an invitation," said Albus. "And a fine one it was, too," said Morna. "And when do you think you'll want to do the deed?" "We hadn't really thought," said Minerva with a glance at Albus. "We wanted to tell you first, before deciding on a date." "You'll have the wedding here," said Morna. "Oh, I ... er ..." stammered Minerva. "Did you have someplace else in mind?" asked Morna. "No, it isn't that," Minerva replied. "I just ... I don't think we want a big wedding. I just thought—we just thought—we'd do it in a register office somewhere." "A register office? Oh, Minerva, you can't," said Morna. "Not a big wedding, of course, but don't you want your family around you?" "Of course, but—" "Well, that settles it. You'll be married properly. Here," Morna confirmed. The she said, "Of course, if you had somewhere else in mind, Albus ..." "No, no. I am yours to command in this, dear lady. And Minerva's, of course," he said with an apologetic smile at Minerva, who pressed her lips together in a thin line and said nothing. "There. You see how reasonable Albus is being, Minerva?" said Morna. "A small wedding here. With just family and close friends. Exactly as it should be." Minerva's grandmother, it seemed, had carried the day, as nobody else raised any other objections. "Will the Board of Governors give ye any trouble, do ye think, Albus?" Thorfinn asked. "Oh, they may make some noise initially. But there are no rules stipulating that staff members cannot marry. Of course, we will need to maintain all discretion around the students—" "Of course. That's to be expected," said Thorfinn. "Will ye be moving to the castle, then, Minerva?" "We haven't really talked about it," said Minerva with another glance at Albus. "I think, for the time being, I'll keep my room at Charity's. Then, I suppose, we'll have to work out about our living arrangements." She was not anxious to discuss this now, in front of her father and grandmother. "In any event," said Albus, "I think we both prefer to keep our relationship purely professional at Hogwarts." "And we'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to anyone," said Minerva quickly. "No, not without your leave," said Thorfinn. Morna broke the brief silence that followed, saying, "Well, all this excitement has done for me. Minerva, come see me to my room." "All right, Gran," Minerva said. She knew the invitation meant her grandmother wanted to speak with her in private, and she felt a shiver of unease at what might be on the agenda. She looked uncertainly at Albus for a moment. "Go on," he urged her. "I'll wait until you're down again to leave." "You aren't staying?" "Alas, no. As pleasant as this has been, I need to get back to the school." Morna crossed to Albus, and she tugged on his sleeve to get him to lean down so she could kiss his cheek. "I'm forward perhaps, but now that you'll be joining the family, you'll just have to put up with it," she said, releasing him. "It's a duty I look forward to," replied Albus. When Minerva and Morna had left and the library door was closed behind them, Albus watched Thorfinn as he nursed his drink. He had an idea that Thorfinn was watching him, too. At length, Albus said, "This must have been quite a shock to you." "Aye," said Thorfinn. He sipped his drink. "And no." "What do you mean?" "I'm surprised Minerva is thinking to get married. She's never talked of it, even as a wee girl. I suppose that's understandable, growing up with only her widowed father and grandmother. She never got to see much of marriage." "No, I imagine not." "But she's loved ye a long time, I think," said Thorfinn, looking steadily at Albus, who forced himself not to react, other than to say, "Oh?" "Aye. Since she was girl, I'd wager." "Did she tell you that?" "No, but it was easy enough to put together. I figured it was no more than a schoolgirl's fancy, but then when we all thought ye were dead—" "In 1945." "Aye. She grieved so, Albus. I thought she'd get over it quickly, but she didn't. She stopped eating, never left the house except to go back and forth to London for her training. Her grandmother and I were worried. She wasn't herself. Amelia—Amelia Bones, who was her flatmate in London—she finally came to the house, she was so worried herself. She hadn't seen Minerva except in class, and she said Minerva barely spoke, wasn't able to do her spells properly—her magic seemed off, Amelia told me, and that frightened me." "Yes. Severe emotional upset can have an effect on one's magic," said Albus. "Thorfinn, I am sorry. I had no idea. If I had known, I would have tried to contact her while I was in hospital." "But of course ye didn't know. How could ye?" Another small stone of guilt dropped into Albus's belly. He had thought about Minerva during his convalescence in Dresden, but his thoughts had been completely selfish, mostly reminiscences about the time they had spent together. He hadn't really thought about how his ostensible disappearance might affect her. "No," he said quietly. "I didn't know." "So ye see, Albus, that her loving you hasn't come as a complete shock. And of course, I'm of the opinion that any man would have to be a great fool not to love my Minerva." "An opinion I share. I am very fortunate." "I will confess that I was a bit concerned when she decided to take the job at Hogwarts. I knew she wasn't completely content at Oxford, but she'd never expressed any desire to teach children before she told us she was going to take your job offer. I didn't even know she'd applied. I was thinking, I don't mind telling ye, that she was doing it just to be near to you." "I assure you, Thorfinn, I had no idea she even planned to apply." "Oh, no. I didn't think ye did," said Thorfinn. "And she seems happy with her work." "Yes, she's said as much to me. I wouldn't try to keep her at Hogwarts if she weren't happy." "Glad I am to hear it." "You have concerns? About our marrying?" "No more than the concerns any father has when his child chooses a mate, I think," said Thorfinn. After a few moments, he added, "She won't be an easy wife. I'm sure ye know that. But then I expect ye won't be an easy husband." "I only want to make her happy." "I know. But Minerva's responsible for her own happiness. I only ask that ye love her and that you're good to her." "I do love her. Very much. And I plan to do my damnedest to be good to her." "That's all I expect of ye. Albus hesitated a few moments, then said, "I should tell you, Thorfinn, that there is another reason we prefer to keep our relationship private. I have enemies. If it became widely known that Minerva was my wife, it might put her in some danger. I must be honest with you about that." "What does Minerva say about it?" "That she is capable of defending herself," said Albus, and the two men smiled at one another in understanding. "That she is," said Thorfinn. "If you were to object to our marriage on that basis, I would certainly understand." "Oh? And what would ye do about it?" "I would not marry her." "Don't be daft, man!" said Thorfinn forcefully. "Don't throw away your happiness—and Minerva's—for fear. Aren't ye Gryffindors meant to be brave? I expect ye to marry Minerva, if that's what ye and she want, whatever I might think of the notion, and what's more important, she expects it. But for what it's worth, Albus, I think it's a damn fine idea." Albus had been surprised by the other wizard's sudden flare of temper, but he was heartened at his words. A slow smile spread across his face, and he said, "I'll take that as your blessing, then." "Do that, Albus. Do that." ~oOo~ "So, you're in love with Albus Dumbledore," said Morna as she and Minerva stepped into the bedroom. "He's a fine man, I think." Minerva smiled. "Yes, he is." "I will admit that I was surprised to hear you're planning to marry." "But not unpleasantly, I hope?" "Oh, no, not at all. As I say, I think he's a fine fellow. And he certainly is an important and famous one." "Yes, I suppose he is. That isn't why I want to marry him, though, Gran." "I wouldn't think so. I think it will make it a challenge for you, though. You've always been uncomfortable with fuss, and he's a man to generate it." "We'll manage." "I expect so." Minerva took her grandmother's shawl from her shoulders, folded it, and put it in the wardrobe. When she turned back to Morna, the elder witch said, "It isn't my business, my lamb, but you can tell your old grandmother ... are you expecting?" Minerva was taken aback. "No! Why do you ask that?" she said sharply. "Now, don't give me your temper, my girl. I just wondered because this idea to marry seems so sudden. Not only have you not mentioned marriage—ever, if memory serves—but you've not mentioned stepping out with Mr Dumbledore, either. And you seem in a hurry to do it—a register office? So you'll have to forgive me if I've come to wrong conclusions." "Oh, Gran," Minerva said. "I'm not pregnant. I just don't like to fuss, as you said. And I never mentioned Albus because ..." "What, Minerva?" Minerva spoke quietly. "I suppose because what I feel for him is so strong. It's just intensely personal. And of course, there are our respective positions to think of." "Well, I'm happy to hear it. A baby on the way is a blessing, but it's a poor reason to get married, in my opinion. I'm glad I don't have to talk you out of it." Minerva laughed suddenly. "Oh, Gran! How could you think I'd let that happen? Didn't you teach me to do the contraceptive charm each month from the time I was thirteen years old?" "Aye," said Morna, joining in the laughter. "And your father was furious. It's the one time I've seen him behave completely irrationally." "You told him?" "I thought I should. It's a complex spell for a young girl to master, and I thought your father had a right to know." "I suppose." Gesturing for Minerva to come sit next to her on the bed, Morna said seriously, "The point is, Minerva, your father and I weren't married, but we were partners of a sort. The decisions I made didn't just affect me. That was a lesson I learned after I married your grandfather, and a difficult one it was, too. I married late—well, late for those times—and I'd been used to thinking only about myself. Then, when I became Jamie's wife, and later, when your mother came along, I had to make choices that I mightn't have done when it was just myself. Do you see?" "I do," said Minerva. And she did. She'd already made a few of those kinds of choices, she thought. Morna patted her granddaughter's hand. "Good. And now, I'll say goodnight, I think. Go down and rescue your fellow." Minerva kissed her grandmother's cheek and went down to join the men. ~oOo~ Two days later, Minerva was coming out of Portage's Cauldron Shop after buying a small copper cauldron for Charity Burbage. Charity enjoyed baking and had complained on a few occasions that her old pewter cauldron just didn't make a good meringue, even with the constant self-whisking charm. She had been very kind to Minerva, and Minerva had been wanting to get her a small gift to show her appreciation. The new cauldron had been a bit more than Minerva had originally intended to spend, but, she reasoned, it wasn't as if she were hurting for ready funds. Her salary wasn't large, but she'd never been much of a shopper, and she'd already built up a considerable savings. She had thought she might spend her savings on a small house in or around Hogsmeade once it became clear that her contract at Hogwarts would be renewed. Now that she and Albus were to be married, she wasn't certain. They would have to discuss it, she supposed. Considering the question, she'd turned to head towards the Leaky Cauldron's Apparition point when she was pulled back suddenly by a hand on her arm and whirled around to come face to face with Tom Riddle. She couldn't suppress her shocked intake of breath, both at the surprise of being accosted and at his appearance. Her heart was pounding, and she automatically focused on her breathing to calm herself. "Minerva. What a surprise," Tom said drily. "Let go of me, Tom," she said, shaking her arm free of his grip. "Is that any way to greet an old chum?" She turned and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction. "Off to hop into Dumbledore's bed?" he called after her loudly, stopping her momentarily. She glanced around and saw that two passers-by had stopped and were looking at her. She made a decision and steeled herself, giving the gawkers her recently perfected professorial glare, sending them scuttling on their way, then she strode back to where Tom stood smirking. "I wouldn't slander Dumbledore's name, if I were you, Riddle," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray her discomfort. "Slander? I don't think so. I have several witnesses who can attest to having seen him go upstairs at the Hog's Head Inn. And I saw you coming out later. Of course, you were a bit longer of tail at the time, but those markings around the eyes are a dead giveaway." She could only stare at him. So he knew she was an Animagus. It wasn't exactly a secret; there had been a little blurb in the Daily Prophet when she had registered—"Youngest Animagus in Fifty Years"—but the only place in which her Animagus form had been described was in the Ministry register. Which meant that Tom Riddle had been checking up on her. "What do you want, Riddle?" "You wound me, Minerva. I want nothing from you." "Then why follow me?" "I am merely ... curious." She waited for him to continue. "Why would such a talented witch become a schoolteacher?" he asked. "I enjoy teaching." He barked a laugh. "I have a very hard time believing that, Minerva. In fact, I couldn't believe it when I read about it in the paper. I don't recall patience and a love of your fellow children as among your salient characteristics when we were at school. So I asked myself what other reason you could have for burying yourself up at Hogwarts. And I must admit, the conclusion I reached was not very pretty. You are once again under the thumb—among other things—of that meddling fool of a Headmaster." "I don't see what business it is of yours." "It's my business because you insulted me, Minerva. I gave you every opportunity, but you chose that old man over me." He took several steps towards her, and she had to force herself not to back away from him. "I'm sorry if I hurt your ego, Tom, but there are plenty of other Nereids in the sea, as they say." "Don't flatter yourself. It isn't your meagre feminine charms that interest me. Your power attracts me. We are alike in that, are we not? Or are you going to tell me that it's the old man's blue eyes and the way he whispers sweet nothings in your ear that make you want him?" He leant in close to her and whispered, his lips inches from her ear, his hot breath making her shiver, "Because I won't believe you." She drew back, and he continued, "I have plans, Minerva. Great plans. And you could have helped me, with your power and talent. But you've chosen to squander it to be the concubine of the wizard who would stand in my way, and that is very much my business. "That's your decision. So you can take a message back to your lover from me. Tell him to call off his guard dog. He doesn't scare me, but he makes my friends nervous, and when they're nervous, unfortunate things happen. Unfortunate things like—" He lifted a hand to his left eye and made a popping sound. "We wouldn't want any more accidents, would we?" She was shaking with rage. "I'll tell him so such thing. Your threats mean nothing to me, nor to Dumbledore." "Really? And what do you suppose would happen if someone just let it slip to the Board of Governors that the Headmaster is sleeping with his new Transfiguration mistress?" She felt the blood leave her face. "There's no prohibition against relationships between staff," she said. "Perhaps not, but it would look bad, wouldn't it? The governors are nothing if not conservative in their views. And I imagine the Headmaster carrying on an affair with his much younger subordinate on Hogwarts's grounds with the children toddling about might violate the morals clause of his contract." "You have no way of knowing how or where Albus and I conduct our relationship." "Don't I?" he asked, staring at her intently, reminding her, as was no doubt his intention, of the last time he had broken into her mind. Before thinking about it, Minerva held her left hand up in front of his face, releasing the Disillusionment charm on her ring. "It will be a moot point very shortly," she said, and she knew immediately that it had been a mistake. His initial surprise was quickly replaced by the old, familiar predatory look behind his eyes as he said, "Well, well, well. Old Dumbledore has decided to make an honest witch of you at long last. Congratulations, Minerva." "So you see, Tom, there will be nothing for the governors to object to." "I'm sure they will be as delighted for you as I am," he said. "Unless, of course, they find out that he's been bedding you since you were a student. What do you suppose they would make of that information? I also wonder how long it would be before some helpful soul leaked that titbit to the Daily Prophet. What would happen to your precious Dumbledore then? And to you? I don't suppose the cream of wizarding society will be eager to send their children to a school headed by a paedophile, nor have them taught by a common whore." Her palm connected with his lineless face almost before she knew she had moved. His fury was belied by his even tone. "You'll regret that one day." "You don't frighten me, Riddle," she said, and they both knew she was lying. "If you spread gossip about Albus and me or try to harm us in any way, he will strike you down. He could snap your magic like a matchstick or have you filed away in a cell in Azkaban, and you know it." "Still hiding behind Dumbledore's robes, Minerva? How very un-Gryffindor of you!" He seized her by the arm again, digging his fingers into her flesh. She refused to let him see her pain. "Albus Dumbledore won't be around forever. I can wait. I'm very, very good at it. I have all the time in the world. An eternity, you might say. And when he's finally mouldering away in his grave, I will come for you. Count on it." An hour later, she could still feel the ghost of his icy fingers on her flesh. ← Back to Chapter 44 On to Chapter 46→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium